


I've always wanted a dog

by tattletwink



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-24
Updated: 2014-04-24
Packaged: 2018-01-20 16:52:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1517996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tattletwink/pseuds/tattletwink
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam gets Steve a puppy for his birthday, FLUFFFFFFF</p>
            </blockquote>





	I've always wanted a dog

“I tried my best to get your present here for tonight, but there was a delivery issue. So I’ll bring it over to your place tomorrow, if that works,” Sam apologizes, leaned back in the booth, arm carelessly outstretched along the edge of the booth. The booth is large, but Sam’s broad presence fills it easily, a lopsided grin across his face.

 

Sam was very committed to Steve’s list, so for his birthday it wasn’t even a question that they were going to hit up the best Thai restaurant in the city. Noticing Steve’s brow furrow as he squinted at the menu, Sam had taken control to Steve’s visible relief, ordering of pad thai and red curry for Steve and a bowl of tom gha kai for himself.

 

Steve smiles, “Don’t worry about it. You really didn’t have to get me anything.” To tell the truth, he was surprised when people bothered with his birthday. It had always been a limited affair, usually a carefully prepared celebratory dinner between him, his mother, and Bucky.

 

The war and subsequent food rations hadn’t stopped his mother from making their last birthday together special. Sarah Rogers had watched her son’s first bite with hesitance: cake without eggs, milk, or butter wasn’t much of a cake in her opinion, but she wanted to make him to be happy. She glowed at his compliments.

 

Times had changed, he thought, looking at the lush and colorful supper on his plate. Food was everywhere now. His mother would have been amazed at the variety of foods her son ate these days, but he doubted she’d be surprised at his new friends. She always said he seemed to bring out the good in people.

 

From Tony sending his most expensive vintages (“Just because you can’t get drunk doesn’t meant you can’t appreciate the taste,” Tony rationalized) to Nick’s gift of a new motorcycleSteve wasvisited throughout the day by gift-bearing Avengers, and SHIELD Agents as well. To tell the truth, it was a relief to escape the overwhelming attention via Sam’s invitation.

 

Somehow, it feels right, being with Sam for his birthday dinner.

 

Sam frowns and shakes his head, “Steve, it’s your birthday. There’s no way I’m reneging on your birthday present, man. Besides, and I don’t mean to brag, but I give great presents. I mean Natasha and Bucky did _pretty_ well, but this is going to blow their gifts out of the water.”

 

“That’s big talk, buddy. Hope you can back it up.” He teases, wiping his nose with a napkin. Sam’s answering grin tells him more often than not that there’s no room for doubt when the Falcon says something’s so.

 

Forking up another bite of noodles (he was going to need to work on his chopstick handling), Steve can’t help but flush at the spiciness of the food along with his companion’s attentiveness. Publically, Steve doesn’t care much for his birthday, but privately he’s beyond pleased about Sam’s excitement around the event.

 

Natasha had practically purchased him new wardrobe, tailored to fit and everything, though god knows when she had gotten his measurements. Reflecting back, she had managed to bump into him an inordinate amount of times in the preceding weeks, likely mapping his body with calculated “uncoordinated” hands.

 

Bucky bought him a new leather bomber jacket, made with supple brown leather. Natasha confided that Bucky had dragged her to over ten different stores in search of the perfect specimen. Shoving it into his arms, he mumbled something about hoodies not being real jackets and “happy birthday, jerk”.

 

“Trust me, you’ll love it.”

 

“I have no doubt.” Sam knocks his foot against Steve’s under the table, Steve shakes his head, smirking. Sam makes him feel like he actually belongs in this century, like there was actually a reason he survived everything he’d gone through. Glancing over at Sam, Steve feels lightheaded and warm.

 

He can’t entirely get a read on him though. Sam’s friendly and flirtatious, but what if that’s how he is with everyone? Steve isn’t afraid of being forward, but he wants a little more confirmation before acting on his feelings. He doesn’t want to needlessly endanger a friendship if he doesn’t have to.

 

Two mostly clean plates and a pile of sweat dabbed napkins later, Sam deftly snatches the bill from the center of the table before Steve has a chance to take out his wallet. Steve’s protests meet staunch resistance: “It’s your birthday man, nobody pays on their birthday,” Sam chides, offering up a silver card in a smooth arch to the server.

 

Sam drops Steve off at his apartment, lingering outside for a moment longer than usual.

 

“Do you want to come in for coffee?” Steve offers, feeling momentarily bold. Apparently this is how people do things like these days, at least according to Natasha. Steve isn’t convinced. How do people know when you just want to have coffee? The fondue thing isn’t a big argument in favor of his romance skills, so when in doubt, Steve follows Natasha’s guidance.

 

Sam looks like he’s considering it for a moment, but he smiles and brushes off the invitation gracefully. “Maybe another time. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

 

Steve says sure, feeling slightly disappointed, but also kind of relieved. Muscles that had been tensed relax, and after reentering his apartment, he takes a hot shower before collapsing into bed.

 

* * *

 

 

Despite all appearances, Steve isn’t just waiting for Sam to show up. He has other things on the go. Except he really doesn’t. He wakes up at 5:30, laces up his running shoes, and goes for his daily jog and is disappointed to see that Sam isn’t on the trail. Returning home, he showers off and sets himself to attacking Natasha’s gifts.

 

He isn’t completely obtuse to fashion trends, Pepper has more or less been guiding him through the basic rules of twenty first century couture, but he wants to look nice. The materials feel sleek and cool in his hand and he’d like to wear them well.

 

Intimidated, he decides to wait until he next sees Natasha to get a run through on what pieces work best with which, and decides to wear khakis, a white shirt, and the new bomber jacket Bucky bought him. He then makes cereal, tries to read a book for awhile, loses concentration, and decides to watch CNN until Sam shows up.

 

When Sam knocks, Steve practically leaps from the chair, though by the time he opens the door, he has recalibrated to a casual pace. Sam’s beaming back at him, hands resting on his hips. Steve can’t help but smile back.

 

“Hey man”

 

“Listen, I’ve got to go get your present from the car. Do me a favor, have a seat in that comfy chair, close your eyes, and I’ll be right back.”

 

“Sure thing.” Steve relaxes into the chair, an excited smile playing at his lips. For the first time he’s curious as to what Sam got him. Listening raptly, he can here a car door slam shut outside his building, the front door, then fast steps up the stairs.

 

“Eyes better be closed, Rogers.” He hears Sam yell from the doorframe.

 

“They’re closed.” Steve answers. He hears Sam pad closer and then feels a warm, squirming weight on his stomach. Opening his eyes, he can scarcely believe the animal, snuffling his way up his chest, tiny brown paws bracing on his chest.

 

Staring at his face, the puppy’s eyes are golden and intelligent, popping against her cropped liver colored coat. She’s lean, even for a puppy, not yet accustomed to her growing body. Sniffing at his shirt, she’s affectionate and doesn’t seem fearful of Steve in the least.

 

“You got me a dog!?” Steve exclaims, reaching to ruffle the puppy’s ears. Standing unusually tall on his chest, she licks his face excitedly. “I’ve never had one before, my mom said we couldn’t keep one in the apartment, wait-“

 

“I already checked with your landlord, and it’s all good. My cousin’s a dog breeder and this guy was slated to be sent to Vancouver, but the buyer backed out last minute so I even got her at a deal.” Sam answers confidently, reaching down to scratch the dogs back. Watching Steve’s reaction is enough to put a smile on his face for the rest of the weak.

 

“She’s beautiful.” Steve says reverently, petting her glossy coat “What breed is she?”

 

“German short hair pointer. They’re super smart, really athletic dogs. I think she’ll keep you out of trouble whenever Nat and I are busy. They need to be taken out for exercise for at least once a day so that way you have a nice reason to hit the town everyday, maybe visit me at the VA.”

 

“We’ll definitely do that.” Steve feels almost childish for how happy he is. He’d always liked dogs, both the ones that lived in Brooklyn and the few military dogs they kept at the base. They were always so friendly.

 

“So, when you look at that face, any names come to mind? And for the love of god, do not say ‘America’.”

 

Steve pauses for a moment, “Is Lacey a good name? Or is it too...old?”

 

“Nah, that’s a great name. Two syllable names work best for calling dogs, so that’ll fit perfectly. She looks like a Lacey to me.”

 

Steve can’t stop grinning, petting the inquisitive pet on top of him. “You’re right. This definitely beats out everything else I’ve gotten.”

 

Sam can’t help but preen, scooping up the puppy from Steve’s chest. “I’m not even finished yet, we need to get you some dog stuff.”

They hit up the closest pet store, Lacey cradled in Steve’s arms, and he can’t help but frown at the amount of rawhides Sam’s throwing in the cart. Actually the amount of anything Sam is throwing in the cart is prompting minor concern. Red rubber kongs, a rainbow cornucopia of dog treat bags advertising various health advantages, squeaky toys, non squeaky toys, leashes, collars, ID tag, all of them fall into the ever filling shopping cart.

 

Whenever Steve tries to interject, Sam holds up an authoritative hand, “No offense man, but you haven’t had a dog before. This looks like a lot, but in about two weeks you’re going to be thanking me.”

 

It’s around the point that Sam is picking up the biggest kennel known to mankind where Steve has to put his foot down.

 

“You are not paying for all of this. It’s way too much.”

 

“It’s part of your present, you don’t get a say old man.” Sam teases as he struggles to maneuver half of the kennel into the cart. It’s not particularly heavy, but its kind of awkward to reach given it’s height on the shelf.

 

“I do have money you know, a salary and everything. People don’t just reward acts of heroism with thanks these days.” Steve adds, setting Lacey down to help Sam in his adjust the angle of the kennel in the cart. Lacey watches with half hearted interest before abandoning them to venture down one the aisles.

 

“Seriously though, Steve, you’re a national treasure. Allow me to treasure you.” Sam adds, clapping a hand to his shoulder and squeezing gently. Steve desperately wants to kiss him, but they’re in a pet store and he feels like it’s not a great time. “Now let’s grab that runt and head out.”

 

Sam pays and the cashier, an adorable Asian girl with a giant tentacle sleeve helps carry a massive bag of dog food to the car, despite Steve insisting that they don’t need any help, that she could just hold the puppy if she wanted too.

 

When they get home, they are both kind of sweaty from lugging everything up three flights of stairs and Lacey curls herself up in a ball in the living room and promptly falls asleep. After everything gets set up and Sam begins making motions to leave, Steve wants to talk more than ever and figure out what exactly is going on between them. Anxiety flutters in his stomach as he tries to figure out a smooth way to introduce the subject.

 

Sam seems to sense his unease and makes for a quick escape. “I’d love to stay and give you a run down on the first couple days of dog ownership, but I have a few errands I need to run today for the VA. Text me if anything comes up, okay?”

 

“Can we talk for a minute?” Steve asks, his voice pitching slightly higher than usual.

 

Sam’s expression turns pained, “Can it wait? I really need to get going.”

 

Weighing whether or not he wants to ask that of him, Steve chooses the safer route. “Yeah, definitely.”

 

“Okay cool. We will talk. I promise.” And with that Sam disappears down the hallway, leaving Steve with his conflicting feelings and a bunch of mixed messages. Sighing, he shuts the door, wishing momentarily that he could stop having feelings, skipping elation if he knew he was only going to feel downtrodden later.

 

Looking at Lacey, he smiles despite himself. He always wanted a dog.

 

* * *

 

 

What they don’t tell you, those people who have never had a dog before, is that the first couple of weeks are hell. Lacey doesn’t like the kennel. Lacey doesn’t like the kennel whatsoever. She cries loudly throughout the night. Steve worries about his neighbors before remembering the walls are fairly reinforced, then he worries about himself.

 

Less than two full nights pass before Steve breaks and allows her to sleep in his bed with him. His bed is spacious and too soft (like Sam said). Lacey represents only the smallest portion as she pads carefully onto the middle, looking at him expectantly. She only lies down after he does.

 

Keen to rest against his body heat, she sprawls with her back against his, chest softly rising in the night. Steve appreciates the body heat, the sensation of another body breathing is calming, and is willing to make the concession just this once.

 

Texting Sam this development, as he does with all dog developments, he receives an urgent vibration back “Don’t do it. It’ll become her bed. She’s gotta learn, man.” Steve ignores it, shrugging back to sleep. It’s just the one night.

 

Of course Sam is right and now it’s her bed, too. The kennel looks like an abandoned wiry monster in the corner of his living room, used only when Steve goes places he can’t bring Lacey or rides his bike.

 

Sometimes he wakes up in the night, the fragment of a nightmare burning in his mind. Bucky losing his grip and falling into the icy abyss, commandos falling at his side from snipers he can’t see, Bucky’s broken gaze, icy eyes with pupils blown, as he finally finishes his mission. They feel so real that even when he wakes up his heart won’t stop pounding, his body soaked with sweat.

 

Already awake, Lacey snuffles at his face, licking his cheek, watching him carefully. Sometimes she wakes him up, other times he awakes to her keeping loyal vigil. Drawing heavy breaths, he rubs her head affectionately, pulling himself to lean up against the headboard. He contemplates texting Sam about it, but he never does.

 

Training her is hard and running her out to the curb while holding her tight to his chest is a certified apartment hazard. More often than once, he meets Sharon on his way down (“Excuse me! Sorry! We gotta get outside!”) and can hear her laughter peal down the stairwell. It takes less than a week for everyone to get on a first name basis with Steve’s dog and have a personal tale of their encounter.

 

Steve doesn’t see Sam as much these days. Lacey keeps him occupied and there are always things going on at the VA. But they keep in text contact, Sam relaying encouragement and suggestions and Steve forwarding increasingly more detailed anecdotes as he becomes more proficient with his iPhone.

 

He walks Lacey when he’s sure there aren’t too many people on the street, usually early in the morning or late at night. Deep down, Steve is afraid he’ll get noticed and that it’ll send Lacey into a panic. She’s okay with a few people at a time, strangely calm around Sam, Bucky, and Natasha, but around too many strangers her body begins to vibrate with fear. He wants to shield her from unwanted attention.

 

They don’t run into too many people in the first couple weeks. Most people are courteous, inquiring for permission, before reaching to pet her snout. Steve has to laugh because nine times out of ten they don’t recognize him as Captain America. He doesn’t know why he bothers with a hoodie when having a dog almost makes him undetectable to the public.

 

On one of his many walks with Lacey, walking being a loose term, Lacey tends to rove all over the sidewalk, he finds a yellow poster ‘Obedience Classes’. There’s a muttered hallelujah and Steve dials the number immediately to register them.

 

The classes are on Tuesday and Wednesday nights and Steve finds him surrounded by people of all backgrounds and dogs of all breeds. Using treats and affirmations, Steve learns how to give Lacey commands, to reward her, to walk her properly.

 

Everyone is nice to him there and if people recognize him, no one comments on it. The instructor, Amira, hands out purple ribbons at graduation and Steve keeps theirs and affixes it to the fridge with a magnet. He promptly texts Sam.

 

Steve: We graduated!

Sam: Congrats!!! Miss you on the trail

 

The months bleed by with an earnest familiarity. Natasha and Bucky weave in and out of his apartment at intervals, neither of them comfortable with holding identifiable addresses. Lacey listens to Natasha’s commands in earnest and manages to insinuate herself into Bucky’s good graces even on his worst days. Steve embraces the routine, becomes a compulsive texter to Natasha’s delight, never revealing who he is constantly texting.

 

(It’s Sam.)

 

Lacey grows quickly, no longer a puppy but mostly grown, her head reaching the middle of Steve’s thigh when she stands. She needs more and more exercise. Morning walks are no longer sufficient and Steve risks property damage if he leaves her alone in his apartment

 

Steve thinks Lacey’s ready for her first run. Lacing up his sneakers as Lacey snuffles around his head, anxious to leave upon seeing the leash in his grip. Steve wonders if he’ll see Sam on the trail. It’s been several months since he’s been able to get out for his run at the regular time, preferring to walk Lacey first and then go on a solo run afterward.

 

They set an easy pace and Lacey matches him easily. Breathing the fresh morning air, Steve can’t help but feel exceptionally at ease with the world. Spotting a figure up ahead, he grins, speeding up. Lacey tears at the bit, upon recognizing Sam.

 

“On your left,” Steve yells cheerfully.

 

Sam half turns, face lighting up with recognition, “Hey! Hey Lacey, good to see you two on the move. How’ve you been?” Sam slows his pace to one at which he can comfortably hold a conversation, Steve follows suit.

 

“Good! I’ve been good. We get out a lot, walks and such. Everything’s been pretty quiet on the home front, Nick says its unlikely we’re going to see anything for the next while. Something about the last mission Natasha and Bucky went on. How about you? How’s the VA?”

 

“It’s been good. A lot of soldiers returning from tours lately. The meetings have been pretty packed. You should swing by with Lacey tomorrow. We’ve got a bit of a presentation planned for the new guys, You can say ‘hi’ to the returnees, rally some spirits and then we could grab a late lunch after.”

 

“I think I could swing it.” Steve says casually, secretly delighted.

 

* * *

 

Watching Sam talk to the veterans is practically hypnotic. If there’s one thing to be said about Sam Wilson, and there are several, its that he understands his audience better than anyone else and knows how to approach them with the perfect mix of seriousness, humor, and warmth.

 

Words more often than not, get stuck in Steve’s throat, he doesn’t know what to say and his own feelings feel ineffectual in his chest. Natasha makes a cryptic comment every now and then that leaves him stunned, Bucky has as much baggage as he does and then some.

 

Neither of them speak freely. The occasional slip is all Steve has to act on, to help. Steve feels his own panic rise in his chest at his inability to help his friends, to salve wounds that are exposed only for the length of time it takes the other person to adjust their defenses.

 

Sam doesn’t get like that. Steve’s heard the stories because he’s not the only person who notices that Sam is amazing at what he does. Over the past few weeks, Steve has become friendly with the administration staff and they tell him the stories that never make it through the text exchanges.

 

People will break sometimes, get angry, withdraw, cry. Sam doesn’t scare off despite the array of tactics use to push him back. There isn’t anything in the world you can do to get him off of your side. There’s a calm tenacity, an understated realization that he might be the difference between people coming back and people being left behind.

 

His reverie is interrupted by clapping. Oh god, Sam’s done speaking and now its his turn. Despite all appearances, Steve hates public speaking. He’s hated it since as long as he can remember, but he bites down on his fear because public speaking is a way to help people and worth the minor discomfort.

 

Looking at Sam, he can’t bite back a grin, despite the solemnity of the occasion. He wants him to be as proud of him, he wants to do a good job. He hands of Lacey’s leash and approaches the podium.

 

The venue is almost packed with veterans and their families. People of all ages watch him raptly.

 

His speech is short and off the cuff, he wasn’t sure how much time was budgeted for the presentation.

 

Skirting the issues of nationalism, he talks about the importance of people, the difficulties of coming back, of how even when it feels like you’ve fallen out of the system when you come home you haven’t, that people you don’t even know yet are waiting for you to come home. That people like Sam Wilson and the workers at the VA are always there.

 

He talks about how things are different. How they won’t be the same and that together hold memories that are not always easily shouldered, how scary it is. But that there is reason to hope that together we can all be okay at some point, whether it starts today or a year from today, that the men and women that have become soldiers will outlive the warfare that’s marked them.

 

The room has gone deadly silent and Steve’s throat goes dry as he finishes. He can’t read anyone’s expressions worth a damn, so he cuts it kind of short. Thanks them for their contributions. Moves to step off stage.

 

Sam catches his arm en route, turning him back to the stage as the audience erupts in applause.

 

“I swear one of these days someone’s going to scoop you up to be a speechwriter. I told you to come say a couple words, not upstage me at work.” Sam laughs.

 

“What are you talking about?” Steve answers in disbelief, shaking his head. “Your speech was amazing, I just said some things.”

 

“Whatever you say, Captain Modest.” Sam chuckles, leading him off the stage.

 

They have a meet and greet with the veterans after for about half an hour. Sam waits with Lacey on the edges of the room while Steve is mobbed by families. He brings out the shield to the delight of the children there and a few pictures are snapped. Most of the veterans want to have a few private words with him and the kids look bored so he hands his shield off to a little girl and the kids take turns holding it and wheeling it around the room.

 

By the end of it, they’ve gone past the scheduled time for the meet and greet by two hours. Steve feels bad as he grabs the shield back from a different little girl. She runs to grab her veteran mother’s hand joining the last family to leave the building. As soon as they’re gone, he makes his way over to Sam and Lacey.

 

“I’m really sorry, Sam. That really got away from me.” Steve says, rubbing the back of his neck.

 

“Why are you apologizing? That was awesome. You made their day.” Sam still looks genuinely happy, even while Steve was shooting him apologetic looks through the crowd. Handing Lacey’s leash over to Sam, they head out toward the front doors.

 

“People should have come to talk to you. I really don’t know anything about this stuff. You speech- It was really heartfelt, Sam.”

 

“Thanks, I want to be accessible you know? Soldiers like us, we tend to put up a lot of barriers and its important that we figure out how to get them down in order to start living again.” Sam’s voice has gone kind of quiet, in an earnest tone, as if he doesn’t hear that feedback very often. Steve listens raptly, wonders if everyone just assumes Sam knows he’s great because he is and doesn’t tell him.

 

Steve links their arms as they walk, only realizing seconds afterward that _wow that is an oldschool mo_ ve, but Sam goes with it. When he looks back at him, Sam’s grinning, carefree.

 

“Besides, of course people wanted to see you, you’re Captain America. I purposefully left the wings in storage so that you’d actually have a chance at being noticed.”

 

Caught off guard, Steve bursts into laughter.

 

“I mean the shield is nice, don’t get me wrong. But the wings…that’s another story.”

 

Steve chuckles, “Can’t argue you there.”

 

They take the long way home, weaving throughout busy streets, Lacey sniffing everything they encounter. They catch up on the little things, it doesn’t feel like they’ve been apart for very long but in some ways they have. When they finally reach Steve’s apartment around six o’clock.

 

Steve offers to cook them dinner at his house and Sam enthusiastically agrees. Sam perches himself at the island, while Steve starts taking ingredients out of the fridge to make spaghetti sauce from scratch.

 

“So…I noticed a few of the veterans had dogs,” Steve says as he begins to mince garlic.

 

“Yeah, there were a few service dogs there. There’s a really good program that sets up veterans with animals to help them cope with coming back.” Sam answers, maneuvering around Steve to grab another cutting board and get to work chopping onions.

 

“So was Lacey supposed to be my service dog?” Steve wouldn’t be mad if that were the case, Lacey had his life feel a lot better since he’d had her. She was a positive presence that he could reflect off of when he didn’t feel like anything was in his favor.

 

Sam shakes his head, “Not really. Service animals undergo pretty strict training before they’re assigned a veteran. That being said, there are emotional benefits to having a dog regardless of whether they are professionally trained. Owning a dog gives you a sense of responsibility, of companionship, a lot of the time when people can’t handle looking out for themselves, looking after a pet keeps them focused.”

 

“I can see how that works. Soldiers are good with responsibility, but sometimes it’s hard to remember to direct that responsibility inward.” Steve says.

 

“If I thought you needed a service animal, I definitely would have pulled some strings. But it just seemed like you could use a little boost so I thought Lacey would do in a pinch.”

 

“I don’t know, she’s alright,” Steve joked. Lacey lifted her head upon hearing her name to look at Steve, from where she was napping at the ground.

 

Steve slides the garlic and onions into a pot with a few generous glugs of olive oil to fry up and soften.

 

“So how have you been lately, adjustment-wise? If I’m to go by your speech, it sounds like you’ve been making some serious progress.” Sam comments, watching him for his reaction.

 

They’ve danced around the issue of Steve’s adjustments for the past few months. It’s not out of any sense of it being an invasion of privacy on Steve’s part, but that his interest in Sam makes him reluctant to give too many details. Steve knows Sam wouldn’t regard him as weak or reflect negatively on him, but…it’s the guy he likes, he just wants to be himself without the baggage.

 

A few months earlier, he would have dodged the question with practiced dedication, redirected the conversation topic to something safe. Now, he doesn’t feel the compulsion. Things have been better lately. He doesn’t feel as alone, the nightmares still happen but at a lesser frequency, the world doesn’t seem as foreign to him as it once did.

 

“I mean, the speech pretty much said it. I feel like I’ve been coming to terms with everything that’s happened over the past few months. That being said, I’m not one hundred percent, but I think there’s a case to be made for cautious optimism.”

 

“That’s really good to hear.” Sam means it, nudging him with his shoulder and giving him a sincere smile.

 

“Can I ask you something?” This is the moment. Steve’s finally going to take charge. He can do this.

 

“Sure.” Sam looks up from his cutting board, now busy chopping up tomatoes.

 

The second Steve starts speaking he knows he’s lost control, so he just blurts out everything.

 

“Would you be interested in going on a date with me? Because I really like you and I wanted to ask because this has been eating me up for months and if you don’t want to then I can just let it go and we can be friends, and it will be completely okay, but if you want to-“

 

Sam’s face breaks into a broad smile the after the first sentence, beaming at him throughout his mildly embarrassing spiel. Sliding a tomato off his knife, he doesn’t keep Steve in suspense.

 

“I’d love to.”

 

“Really?” Concise, immediate, and in his favor, Steve’s favorite kinds of responses. He feels like he run five consecutive marathons, the relief of the weight lifting off his chest is so great. Sam actually wants to go on a date with him, he cannot express his joy, but he grins back and nods his head.

 

“God, I’m glad you said yes.” He mutters under his breath, still somewhat stunned.

 

“Hell yeah. I was just waiting on you. I didn’t want to complicate stuff for you while you were figuring out what it meant to be Steve Rogers in the twenty first century. We are _totally_ going to date.”

 

* * *

 

 

The next Thursday, Steve picks up Sam on his bike and takes him to a really good Vietnamese restaurant he’s found. Steve orders for them (with secret help from the server) and successfully conspires with the restaurant owner to pay the bill before it even reaches their table. Sam and Steve talk, but its different this time, electric. They barely make it out the restaurant before they start pulling at each others' clothes, kissing and laughing.

 

They go slow, making out like teenagers on Steve’s couch until Sam finally does have to go home because its four in the morning and he has VA responsibilities. When they do sleep together, it’s better than anything Steve had hoped for, lying with Sam in his arms feels more real than anything else in this new century.

 

Natasha teases them, pointedly throwing a “Hi Sam” when she knows he’s stayed the night at Steve’s place yet again. Bucky likes Sam, he likes seeing Steve happy so nothing changes between them beyond a few solemn warning about what happens if you break Steve Rogers’s heart.

 

One morning, Steve wakes up and Sam’s already lacing up his trainers.

 

“And where do you think you’re going?” Steve tugs a his workout shirt, pulling him back into bed for a sloppy kiss on the cheek.

 

Sam smiles, carding a hand through his hair and kissing his lips sweetly. “Taking my dog for a run. Wanna join?”

 

“Oh, now she’s your dog?” Steve comments, pulling at the sheets, resigned to waking up as well. Nothing matches waking up next to Sam in the morning, even if they really hadn’t been sleeping that long.

 

“Well, she does like me best.” Lacey rests her head on Sam’s thigh, watching him expectantly. Petting her softly, Sam attaches her leash to her collar prompting her to start jumping around in excitement of future running.

 

“Says you.” Sam chirps, wrestling on the purposefully too tight under armor top Sam bought him last month.

 

Eventually they are all ready to go and they hit the trail. Sam runs with Lacey and Steve sets his own paces, lapping them six or seven times before their done. Every time Lacey sees him she tries to run to catch up, which is too endearing for this early in the morning. When they finish, they lean against under a nearby tree, Lacey spread out along their feet.

 

“How the hell did a guy like me end up with a sweetheart like you?” Steve finally asks, serious.

 

“Beyond being caring, funny, smart, and good man, I have no idea.” Sam answers, pulling him in for a deep kiss. Steve reciprocates eagerly, hands resting on Sam’s narrow hips. When they pull apart, Steve is blushing, as PDA is never is strong suit. “If anyone asks,” Sam chirps, picking up the leash, “I’ve always wanted a dog."


End file.
